Walls Around the World
by SpicyRoses
Summary: It must have been one of the side effects of the drugs that Stark had inserted into her, because she could have sworn that the stars seemed larger than normal ...Avengers/Prebooks.Eventual romance, but not your average fairy tale. They have a lot to overcome.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I don't know how the heck I came up with this plot. I blame tumblr, the fandoms, and my brain for the cohesion of fandoms. I also haven't actually posted on in a long time, so forgive me for reviewing the process of using this site again. As for chapters, I will try to post 1-2 a month.

 **Disclaimer:** The Avengers belong to Joss Whedon/ Marvel and the world of Middle Earth belongs to the genius, J.R.R Tolkien.

 **Rating:** Will stick to T for now, may go up higher in later chapters.

 **Walls Around the World:** It must have been one of the side effects of the drugs that Stark had inserted into her, because she could have sworn that the stars seemed bigger than normal ...Avengers/LOTR .Eventual romance, but not your average fairy tale. They have a lot to overcome, and a lot to learn.

 **Timeline: Pre-Hobbit.**

* * *

 _"Natasha?! "_

The Avenger blinked.

 _"Natasha….!"_

Where was she?

 _"Agent Romanoff do you copy?!. . . Damn it! I thought you . . !_ "

The voices faded into static, and with it came the sinking feeling that she was alone in the dark oblivion. She flexed her muscles with enough energy to reach around her, and with a jolt realized that her hands were touching grass and dirt. She didn't remember there being any in Stark's lab; he was too OCD to allow any of that into his lab. Slowly, she raised her head and couldn't help but shudder as an owl hooted overhead. Nat let a groan when she quickly came to the conclusion that she didn't have enough stamina to do a thorough inspection of her surroundings just then. It didn't help that her shoes felt like heavy bricks of lead clamping her down. Wherever she was, it definitely wasn't Stark's Tower nor anywhere in New York that she could recall ever being in. Briefly, she wondered if this was how Steve felt after waking up from coma.

She tried dragging her knees up with her feet still on the ground, but was only able to lay on her back awkwardly staring at the stars. It must have been one of the side effects of the drugs that Stark had inserted into her, because she could have sworn that the stars seemed larger than what was usually normal for a September night. Maybe Thor would know them since he was a god after all, she mused.

At some point, she drifted off into a dream. Her only comfort were the knives tucked underneath her shirt.

* * *

 ** _The itsy-bitsy spider…_**

 ** _The Necromancer wasn't content with the current situation. The glitch. It wasn't supposed to happen. Someone had gotten in the way, and they had positioned the arrival spot miles away. Too far away for him to travel without any of the Blue Wizards knowing. He needed to send the message to one of his special servants. She wouldn't need to find the visitor just yet, no. He'd wait for that._**

 ** _Right now, he'd just need to give the visitor a little nudge in the right direction with help from one of the Underlings. The Elves of Mirkwood wouldn't mind...they owed him._**

* * *

She woke up with a jolt, and at first wasn't sure what woke her. But her body's cold reaction made her realize that she wasn't alone. Sometimes, her sharp instincts were her only life savers and this time, they were on high alert. _Get up, damn you,_ she berated herself, clawing at the ground to lift herself up. Awkwardly, she flipped over and almost wished she hadn't.

She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to scream but her eyes widened regardless. Dozens of pale eyes stared back at her. The face was hairy, spiky even as it leered at her from above. The irony would hit her later, but Natasha couldn't think of any black humor at that moment. She just froze as the predator stared back at her. When its reeking breath fanned onto her face, two things happened at once. Her stomach threatened to release whatever was left inside of her, and most importantly, her legs finally kicked into her gear.

Natasha's main goal was to gain leverage of some kind as the creature obviously had the advantage of size and strength. She had been in crazy situations before, but nothing had involved gigantic creatures that had immense clippers for mouths. She didn't know what the beast was waiting for, but her eyes moved slowly to the thick tree trunks surrounding them. Although spiders could easily climb in any given situation, Natasha only needed a few seconds of higher ground to impale it somehow.

It must have been her fingers that were inching towards her hidden knives that finally made the beast move. Its' legs scurried towards her, raising it's clippers. She rolled, and somehow crashed into a tree trunk. It was then she realized that she had been on a hill the entire time. The slope managed to give her momentum as well as some separation between her and the spider. Without glancing back to check on the creature, Natasha swung onto the first branch easily enough while reaching for her knife. Nat couldn't have done it sooner as the spider barreled towards her.

Perhaps it came naturally to her with how she climbed up the tree, but she knew the anatomy of the spider well enough to avoid its pinchers both in the mouth and the bottom of its' feet which made the climb something she had to ultimately focus on. She could sense the spider calculating her next move, and it was out of pure reaction that made her arm swerve behind her. Her hand was met with an explosion of sticky netting. Natasha froze in confusion just long enough for her predator to jab one of its pinchers into her arm. She could hear Tony's laughing at the irony of the situation in her head as the Black Widow was forced to close her eyes for the second time that night. Her mind still screamed at her to hold on.

* * *

 _ **New York**_

"What do you mean Agent Romanoff never arrived? You said before that she was only Off the Grid!" Fury's voice bounced off Stark's lab causing it to sound louder and then it already was, and made the room even more tense than any of the Avengers would care to admit. Stark himself was shuffling around his different gizmos trying to act to like he knew what he was doing while having Pepper glaring at his back. He had only followed Thor's instructions when it came to send anyone to his Realm. Now….now, things were messed up. It wasn't like Captain America becoming President kind of messed up, it was really more like Loki terrorizing the world and letting aliens infest the world kind of messed up.

Lines and numbers skimmed across the screens as he analyzed the new data entries of Romanoff's failed trip. Once her com had gone down, that's when things had gone haywire. There was no sign of her tracker, and with that came no sign of life. But it was one of the Avengers who had gone missing. Not some low life imbecile. There was still hope, there was still possibilities that Tony Stark could-

"Tony?" It was Pepper, leaning over his shoulder like always. She was the reminder that he could always do better.

"Hmm?"

"Since when did you gain access into NASA's satellite systems?"

"Ah, that, well, you see…"

"Tony…" her voice again. He really did make a mess of this. Shit.

"It's quite easy, you see…."

"What's that noise?" It was Thor, looming down on the screens and nearly smashing one of them with his Hammer as if the computer was an alarm clock. It always made Tony tense when Thor was in any proximity of his technology. Then again, it _was_ beeping…It was a satellite picking up more information.

Suddenly, it all made sense. The lack of no communication, why he couldn't get a sign of life from Agent Romanoff. The Galaxy wasn't part of their own Galaxy that Romanoff had landed in, because the recognitions on his systems didn't make any sense. The latitudes and longitudes weren't part of the Galaxies known to him, and Thor had a high enough IQ to tell him what was part of the Asgardian Empire. The information looked Arabic almost…. but no, it couldn't be. He let Banner work on the information, printing off dozens of papers and handing them to the other Avengers. They were directed to search for clues, anything that would make sense about Agent Romanoff's current situation. Tony was just about to hand over his resignation papers when Barton finally broke the tense silence.

"Director, have you ever heard of Middle Earth?"

Tony had known that he should have checked Barton's blood sugar.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Russia, Earth**_ _._

* * *

" _Natalia….," the Russian voice muttered in her ear. "Natalia….Просыпайся!" Wake up! Her eyes flew open, and was instantly greeted with glaring red walls. No. She could feel her face freeze as her brain's walls went up. But she was alone. The Russian speaker wasn't in the room. She instantly took note of the tight metal cuffs around her wrist as she jerked back against her chair in frustration._

 _She was the Black Widow, which meant she had been in more difficult situations than this. It came with the territory. Her fingertips slipped into the back of her pants and reached for the hidden bobby pins that she occasionally used._ "Добро пожаловать, Natalia!" _Good morning. Was it daytime? She couldn't tell._

 _The words buzzed in her ear._

" _Mруси́ха_ _," Natasha muttered as she began pricking the cuffs with the pin. It had taken her less than a minute to realize that the Russians had placed an earpiece on her. "Not so fast, Natalia," the man spoke in his drawled English, "we're not done with you yet…"_

 _She felt the acid rain next. The burning on her eyelids. She needed to get out, she needed pure air. She could feel it tearing through her skin._

" _Oд_ _и_ _н."_

" _Д_ _Ba."_

 _They were counting._

 _Counting for what? She needed to get out. As she scanned the walls it hit her that the only way out had to be in the ground somewhere as there was no doors or windows. There was no light shining through, and no paintings or sculptures to hide secret doors. The acid rain made her vision blurry as she began tracing the tiled floor with her fingers._

" _TPИ!" THREE!_

 _The man was screaming as her palms felt wood instead of tile. She pressed her lips together as her fingers clawed at the wood to lift it up. Natasha ignored her new splinters long enough to throw the door open. There was nothing but a dark, fiery void to greet her._

* * *

 ** _Greenwood the Great._**

 ** _T.A 1050, Year the Peaceful Watch Ends._**

* * *

The ellon's face remained impassive as he could understand the circumstances although his fists curled agitadely around his staff. He had seen aroused from his rest in the early hours of the morning by a disturbance in his forest. The palantir's images were shifting rapidly, and it made the whole situation more frustrating. His eyes narrowed as pale eyes loomed in the blackness...they blinked. Then there was red hair, and green eyes that were falling...falling...falling...

"My lord!

Thranduil's eyes snapped towards to the door to his personal study. Three other ellyn stood in the entry way swarming his Chief Adviser. He met Elhador's gaze, his eyes narrowing as he took in Elhador's bruised face. "What is the meaning of this? I told my guards I was not to be disturbed."

"My lord Thranduil, we have found an intruder."

"Human." It wasn't a question. It had to be her, the girl in the Palantir, he mused.

"Yes...," there was a hesitancy that made Thranduil raise an eyebrow, "the human is female, my lord." Thranduil's lips curved.

"Bring her to me."

"My lord, there is more," Thranduil acknowledged his statement with a blank stare, "she was attacked ,milord. I-i-it was the spawn of Ungoliant. We found her unconscious and pale like death. She has since awoken thanks to our treatment on her wounds."

Thranduil's blood rushed from his face, his breathing trapped. "Do you have proof of this?" he hissed, his eyes flaring. _Iluvatar, no._ Elhador rarely showed his anxiety and he moved stiffly as he ordered one of his patrols to reveal their proof. A severed head, larger then any insect Thranduil had laid eyes upon, rolled from the patrol's bag onto the tiled floor. It was a sickening sight; he could feel the bile rising in him. Hundreds of pale eyes stared back at him, unblinking.

 _This human brought it with her. Bring her to me._ The communication came out as a hiss, but it was all that Thranduil could do while controlling his anger. _Double the patrols tonight._

Elhador bowed in acknowledgment of the order, and no sooner did he leave did he reappear. This time with a very conscious female. Her eyes were furious, to Thranduil's amusement. It always surprised him how intruders imagined themselves so cunning that they could avoid his own guard. It was his forest after all. She was spitting out harsh words that he could only guess were part of her language. It was nothing like what the Gondorians spoke, nor the citizens of Harad. Her wrists were bound as was customary for intruders, and the presence of cloth around her neck was proof that her eyes had been bound shut while being escorted to his throne room.

"She does not speak the Common Tongue, nor any dialect we know of,"Elhador informed him with hints of exasperation in his voice. Thranduil's interest in the female was unconsciously sealed by the new information.

 _Leave us._

He smiled languidly as the female watched the guards leave without any word from him. Looming over her, he watched as she took in the sight of the spider's head. Her skin which was already pale, turned paler, but her jaw remained stubbornly locked. He could feel the presence of her mind and the raging emotions coursing through her. The strange words floated through, and he could understand none of it.

 _You are not from here,_ he mused to her, _what land do you hail from?_ Her gibberish stopped mid-sentence, and Thranduil could not hide his delight in how spooked she looked like a frightened horse. Her eyebrows narrowed, her muscles tense. He could tell that her words were trying to form sentences, or some sort of communication. She had a very tight mind, very sealed. It was if she had the same training his warriors had.

He frowned. Her sentences were becoming very pronounced, but he could still not make sense of them. She sighed, and seemed to be making herself comfortable by crossing her legs on the floor. She pointed at herself, "Nat-ash-a," and then pointed at him, shrugging. He smirked, and realized the game she was playing. Shaking his head, he pointed at the spider's head.

"Nat-ash-a?" he queried, hoping that if not for some obvious word to come out of her mouth, then a reaction from her would suffice. In response, she pressed her lips together and shook her head rapidly. No, not Nat-ash-a. He could tell by the reddening of her face and her lack of movement that Nat-ash-a was getting frustrated by the lack of communication happening. The Elven rope around her wrists were making her skin raw as she desperately squirmed around them to no avail. He could tell through her emotions that she was becoming increasingly irritated, but he could not relent so easily to an intruder.

Thranduil glared at her. Was she denying anything to do with the creature? He prodded her mind, searching for clues. She could feel it, he knew. Whenever he nudged a mind opening, it instantly closed and she hissed at him with intolerance coursing through her veins. Minds were open vaults when not trained, and he could tell that wherever she hailed from, Nat-ash-a had previously trained herself to know how to lock away private memories. He nearly decided to leave the chamber and have her sent to the dungeons for the scholars to deal with her, or his guards until she broke, when he caught sight of an emblem on the intruder's jacket. Thranduil reached down, instantly startling the female as she jerked away to avoid his touch. His hand clutched onto the side of her jacket regardless of her uncomfortable reaction. For a second, he was able to analyze the emblem sewn onto her clothing.

A silver eagle stared back at him.

The next moment, Thranduil felt the intense pressure of a fist against his cheek. Eyes blazing, his first reaction was to drop his staff and grab for her already tied wrists. Looming over her, he hissed back, daring her to attack him again. What she did next, surprised even him but later was described as remnants of the spider's poison; she threw up all all over his tunic ,and consequently lost consciousness due to the dehydration. However, her limbs remained stiff in his arms as if she was telling him that she was not giving up the fight.

* * *

 **Reasoning behind Thranduil having a Palantir:** P.J's depiction of Thranduil's staff looks oddly like a palantir on the top. Also, when the Elves were given the rings, Thranduil was overlooked by Cirdan. Either he was warned or knew something would happen if Thranduil had a ring, or something happened beforehand to cause Cirdan to doubt Thranduil's self control if given such a powerful tool. He even gave Gandalf, a wizard/Maia (NOT an Elf), a ring over Thranduil.

Also, thanks to everyone who decided to alert or favourite this :).


	3. Chapter 3

**2015/09/19: Edit: Magyar is the language of Asgard, and this whole time Nat's hand were bound, and I totally forgot it might be a *little* convenient to get them cut loose some how...**

 **Door of Night,** ** _Ilurambar_**

* * *

 _There it still stands, utterly black and huge against the deep-blue walls. Its pillars are of the mightiest basalt and its lintel likewise, but great dragons of black stone are carved thereon, and shadowy smoke pours slowly from their jaws..._ _\- The Book of Lost Tales, J.R.R Tolkien._ _Out of memory..._

* * *

 _Out of memory..._

 _The Elves were silent as Cirdan the Shipwright's hand gripped Thranduil's shoulder to keep him from going any closer to the Great Door. The great walls of ice that surrounded them kept them from marching around the great dragons that had their amber eyes locked on their prey. Cirdan could smell the ordor coming from their jaws, their black scales rippling in large masses of muscle. Their wings were as wide as the ice walls were tall, and even with his own eyes could not comprehend where they ended or began. He knew Thranduil had taken this in the moment they had arrived, but he seemed careless in his reaction as he had hastily dismounted from his charge._

 _"Thranduil,"hissed Cirdan, "take head of the dragons. We have no spell to enchant them." To his relief, Thranduil stilled, but Cirdan quickly noticed his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. The fool. To risk everything for just his-_

 _His thoughts were jammed to a halt as the great beasts roared. There was a gnashing of teeth, and a great wind swooshed around the warriors as they watched the dragons loom in front of the neverending walls of ice. The taste of sulfur was on his lips, and he could feel the earth tremble as he reached for Thranduil to pull back. "You're angering the Valar, Thranduil! Curse your damn heart!" Thranduil brushed him off again, turning his blazing eyes to the Mariner._

 _"You know nothing, my friend. Nothing," he spat the last word out like it was poison and perhaps they were as they drove into Cirdan's mind like a Dwarf hammer. He could do nothing as Thranduil unsheathed his sword, and like a deer leaped towards the door. His armour shone with flames, and his eyes were like a wild man's. But he kept his sword upright, even as the flames ate at his flesh. It was only then that Thranduil cried out, and somehow in that moment Cirdan felt the presence of Earendil touch his soul. They were not alone._

* * *

 **Greenwood the Great.**

* * *

She had wanted to punch the ignorant bastard's face (who she secretly dubbed Blondie) the moment she had been forced into what she assumed was some sort of council room. The throne was a bit of a dead give away. Even Loki would have been jealous of the intricate designs carved into the wood. However, the occupant was something else entirely. His impassive face reminded her of the Council's Director, especially whenever his lips curved into a smirk.

His bodyguards were irritating as well. She had tried every language she could think of, including Magyar, when she had awoken in their camp. After Korean, she had stopped talking and had remained stubbornly silent. It was when one of the males started searching for any hidden weapons up her thigh did she punch him in the face before any of his friends could react. She had to think Steve for that one. Although her captors were by any standards the best captors she had been under including the KGB because of their strength and foresight of her movements, Natasha had managed to take hold of one of their bows. It was then she found herself tied up by impressively tight ropes. She swore there had to be some sort of chemical in it, because whenever she tried twisting her wrists around to loosen the bonds, the rope would somehow tighten up again. Her bodyguards hadn't blinked an eyelash when a torrent of English swear words escaped her lips.

 _Clint would love this_ , Nat mused. _Th_ _ey're OCD about their bows just as he his._

They had bound her eyes closed with a blindfold, and had grabbed hold of her arms to force her to march along with them. Considering her options, Natasha had known she had to abide their rules at least until she had a better sense of her bearings. Her encounter with the spider (or at least, she assumed it was some sort of spider) had left her disoriented. By the time she had been taken to the male camp, there was little chance of doing her own navigation. She did, however, make sure to take note of any sounds and changes in their walking pattern. She had lost track of time while they walked, but could tell by the heat that it was still daytime. Eventually the forest ground changed to smooth stones, and she could faintly hear running water underneath them. There was a creaking of doors, and then after numerous steps that made her mentally thank Stark for his elevator at his tower, a loud boom that sounded like another pair of doors opening resounded in her ears. There were voices, and then her blindfold had been quickly removed.

She found herself staring at a tall, male blonde. He had looked _regal_...the same sort of bearing as Thor often wore on his face whenever Loki had challenged his right to rule. Her audience with him hadn't lasted long, thankfully. Whoever he was, Blondie had no desire to share any information in English or become friends. That was fine with Nat as long as she could get out of the bloody prison. The severed spider's head had spooked her, but she had been strong enough at the time not to show that to him.

Now, in the cold and dimly lit cell, Natasha came to the conclusion she had three options: 1)Somehow knockout the guards, 2) Wait till she was (if ever) taken out of this cell and run like hell, or 3) Commit suicide and hope this was a dream. She had heard stories about patients being unconscious, and insisting they had experienced supernatural experiences; even meeting angels and God. She highly doubted that these people were any type of supernatural beings. However, she had encountered Blue Elves before (Loki), and a green Monster (Bruce), so nothing could really take her by surprise anymore. As the hours crept by though, she started to doubt in herself and even started to miss Clint's bad mouthing off. It wasn't the coldest cell she had been kept in; Serbia was on the top of the list for that one, but it definitely felt like the lighted torch opposite her cell was mocking her.

She must have dozed off at some point, because her back was stiff when the cell door finally screeched open. Her eyes were instantly wide awake causing her brain to go on high alert. She blankly analyzed the two lanky guards who both entered. They both held bulky sacs holding various items, and she refused to let her curiosity get the better of her. Natasha's hands curled behind her on instinct and she could feel her heels dig into the dirt floor. To her confusion, they handed her the bags without a word and even looked like they planned on staying. Bemused but still not comfortable by their presence, Natasha refused to take them. She could just imagine there being something like a lame ass viper waiting to strangle her. They frowned, and still didn't leave or turn around despite her stubborness. Instead, they took out some sort of parchments out of the bags and to her surprise, they handed them to her. While still making sure they in her line of vision, she reluctantly took them. Natasha the basic training of navigation and could easily tell that they were ancient maps of some sort by the typography and the drawings. There were various landmarks dotted about the maps, and she couldn't help but notice the vastness of what she assumed was an ocean of some sort.

That was all familiar to her; the landmarks. It was the language and shape of the countries that caused her to cave, though. Each one was similar although one or two of them were different lettering, and were most likely different countries. _Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic._

"Shit."She _was_ panicking, and the male guards knew it. They were talking again in their strange language, and it was beginning to piss her off. One of them finally made the wrong decision to grasp her shoulder. Her reflexes kicked in instantly, and she wacked his jaw with full force causing his partner to act in alarm. It was all a blur after she grabbed for his sword. It took her nearly 5 minutes to subdue them; something that Natasha herself was impressed by. She felt like a ninja with the long sword in her hand, which she quickly maneuvered between her thighs, and sawed the ropes easily enough off. Before leaving the cell, she grabbed one of the more basic maps. She wasn't an idiot, and knew that the map could probably help her later on if she ever found someone who could translate in the god forsaken place. Something in the back of her mind made her quickly chuck whatever was in the other back and to her relief, realized it was the belongings she had on her person before she had entered the male camp the previous day. She grabbed the medication, and her knives and hurriedly left, but not before giving both the unconscious guards another wack on the head for a good measure.

"Always a pleasure," she muttered under her breath as she made her way down a passage way. She was grateful for how dark her suit was as it made it easier to blend in with the shadows. If she knew anything about her abducters by now was that they had sharp eyesight. The were various jail guards along the levels of the prison, and Nat couldn't help but compare it to an ant hill with all the layering tunnels. She heard a swift movement coming towards her, and in an instant, Natasha gripped her sword's hilt. There was no point in making the fight a quiet one, she had little choice in the matter. The guard was quick, but to her amusement he didn't expect the power of Nat's thighs to circle around his neck. It was the horn blast that followed that did surprise her.

It resounded against the walls, and her instinct told her to run up the steps on the right. The tunnels ran on and on, and the pursuing voices made her run all the faster. She dodged a group of guards by sliding to a tunnel on the left. Another flight of stairs, and she was suddenly in a much wider hallway. It wasn't the same as the prisons. The walls were adorned with medieval tapestries, and her shoes pressed into the carpets. Another horn blast and a clattering of hoofs caused her to reach for a tapestry and instantly found herself in a huge bedroom. It took her a second to not feel taken a back since she had not been expecting a room instead of a wall. There was a blazing fire, and out stretched in front of her was a master bed close to a window that overlooked a fairy garden. She wasn't sentimental, and very few things ever caused her to be childlike, but the view caused her breath to hitch in her throat.

It was the sound of child like sobbing from the bed that caused Natasha to stop looking at the enchanting view spread out before her. It probably should have unnerved her that she could easily pick out that it was a child crying, but it only made her inch closely to the bed. She instantly took in the sight of the kid wrapped up in blankets, and the tightness that he clutched at stuffed animal. His golden hair was like a waterfall as cheesy as it sounded to Nat, but it flowed like silk down his shoulders. He was like the other males she had already encountered; alert and ready to respond to any sort of movement despite his young age. What was different though, was his skin colour. He was flushed like when one had a fever, and it was the realization of him being sick that made her pause. His nose scrunched up, and his eyes were filled with his obvious distress as he started to throw mysterious words her way.

Natasha sighed, "Hey kid." His response was a babble of words, and an outstretched arm that was covered in tight linen that she quickly realized was keeping a wound from being infected. How archaic of these people; to keep the kid out of a hospital when he obviously lacked medication. Hesitatingly, Natasha lowered her sword onto the bed, and reached for his arm. He tensed, but seemed relaxed enough to allow her to unbound the cloth. He even continued to throwing various words at her, but none of them penetrated Natasha's brain as they were slurred sentences like one drunk. Once the kid's arm was unbound, her eyes could instantly take in the damage done to the arm. It was like someone had taken scissors to his arm, and the swelling reminded her of an allergic reaction. She reached for her ointment quickly, knowing that at any moment the kid could change his mind and start yelling for help.

"It's not going to hurt, OK?" Nat whispered, opening the small jar. His big, blue eyes watched as she dipped her fingers into the ointment, and lathered it onto the swelling. She could feel the tension leave the arm, and if it was any other circumstance, she might have smiled at the relief on the kid's face. The pain must have done on a number on him as his head began to droop onto his pillow, and Nat felt his hand drop from hers. She quickly began putting her ointment away, making sure to not leave any hint of her presence having been there. Only after she wrapped up the kid's arm again did she subconsciously reach for her sword. Her fingers curled around nothing.

With a jolt, a cold pressure of metal forced her to stand up. Natasha's back went rigid, but her eyes remained fixed on the still surprisingly relaxed kid. The sword edged against her neck, beckoning her to turn around. She clenched her fists, ready to spar and knock the sword out of her attacker's hands. But when she finally did turn, the man in front of her made her freeze. It was Blondie, and his eyes were piercing her own without any sort of emotion. To put it in Stark's language: he was _fucking pissed._

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Woosh! Haha, can't get away from King Thranduil that easily ;). Thanks for the alerts! Glad people are enjoying this! I did a lot of switching of tenses in this chapter, but hopefully it came out smoothly enough. I will be touching on things that have never (that I know of) been touched on in fanfiction before so I hope it makes this plot a whole lot more interesting :). I also renamed this fic, "Walls Around the World," it will make more sense and be more fitting as the story unfolds. Keeping with Natasha's knack of knowing a lot of languages: Natasha is also very hot headed and impatient, so keeping that in mind as well as her being pretty traumatized (she won't admit it) after falling into another world, learning Elvish wouldn't really be on the top of her list. Freedom would.**


End file.
